The World Beyond Me

H-hi! M-my name is Emma Conner, and well, I live with my mom in Tucson, Arizona.- Yep, just me and my mom. You might be wondering what happened to my dad. Well…when I was young,  we had a happy family. Consisting of me, my mom, and my dad. My mom was a doctor and my dad was a teacher, and he taught at MY school! I mean, how cool is that!? Not many kids have a dad as their teacher. My dad was a very caring, loving, and funny person, always keeping the mood light and always finding some positivity in the darkest of situations. We would always have family nights on Fridays, and go for ice cream whenever I got good grades! I was an only child and got love and attention from both of my loving parents. Life was amazing! Until... the incident. T-the school’s library caught on fire. I believe I was in grade two at the time. I don’t remember much, but I do remember my dad trying to help as many people as he could… Just as he thought everyone was safely executed, we heard a cry for help! It was one of the teachers shouting from the window, the fire department hadn’t arrived yet and there was nobody else to help… So my dad charged into the building without a second thought. I remember a lot of screaming and the looks of terror and fright on everyone's faces. After what felt like an eternity, my dad finally came out of the building with burns and scars all over, and with the teacher in his arms. Luckily, the ambulances and fire department had just arrived. They quickly took the teacher and my dad to the hospital. Luckily, the woman was fine, she was in a stable condition, but… My dad wasn’t so lucky, he had burns all over and the smoke had severely impacted his lungs. I still remember the brave, determined look on his face while riding in the ambulance with him, despite his condition, he told me that everything was gonna be okay and that he was gonna be fine. Well… he was...                          wrong, he didn’t even last night. The last thing he told me before leaving was “I love you, sweetie. Oh, and happy birthday. Be my brave little girl”. Yep, of all days it had to be on my birthday! Instead of having a cake, a party presents and celebrations like how any other 7-year-old spend's their birthday. I had to spend mine in a dingy hospital that smelled of nausea and death, sobbing with my mom who was also in tears. That was my worst birthday ever… and my last… After that, I stopped celebrating my birthday. Heck! I even stopped going to school! I would usually stay in my room all day crying, and even my eating habits started to change. At first, my mom thought it was normal for someone who had just suffered a loss, but after a few months, she started to become worried and decided to take me to a doctor. I honestly think it was mainly because I hadn’t taken a single step out of the house since the incident, so she probably wanted me to get some fresh air. Turns out I had social anxiety. My parents had always known I’d always been a shy kid but my social anxiety became more severe after my dad passed away. So my mom stopped working and started to homeschool me, and my uncle would send us enough money for a living. My mom is probably the only one I truly trusted and talked to. Over the years, my mom was sort of like my own personal therapist. I would even stand in the mirror for hours practicing to speak to someone new without stuttering. My favorite way to practice was through singing!